


But you're feeling fine

by b_kolacki



Series: A.M [1]
Category: Beyoncé Knowles (Musician)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 11:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_kolacki/pseuds/b_kolacki
Summary: I love broken marriages





	But you're feeling fine

Being single was shit. Maybe some people found it empowering, they learned about themselves and their friends crowded around them in support but unlike some people, Beyoncé didn't have that experience. She felt lonely, she learned nothing about herself in the last few months, she wouldn’t even face her reflection in the mirror and she couldn’t tell her friends about it. She didn’t want to embarrass Jordan and it would be hard to face all the scrutiny after they declared how much they loved each other in public so many times. They didn’t break up because they were young or they moved too fast like they were warned against, it wasn’t an underlying personality difference that separated them, it was that Beyoncé had a baby, got very sad and suddenly couldn’t function as a decent human being long enough to not sleep with someone other than her husband. Suffering in silence seemed like a fair punishment and as long as Jordan said nothing, her mouth would stay closed.

She stayed in the house mostly; she never liked to go out alone. Going out in general seemed like it would be depressing but one morning she woke up and she felt like she needed a change. She needed her husband back but it didn’t seem like he would come around anytime soon and lying in wait was turning out to be a fruitless effort. She didn’t feel like being a mother anymore.She signed up for it but that was when Jordan was around and they were doing it together. Her house started to feel like a prison without him. She was frustrated in every way possible and figured it could be time to try and get relief but she didn’t like herself enough at the moment to try and do it on her own. That was a two person job, or rather one person, she’d supervise. 

She set a few rules. She wouldn’t go for just the first guy that approached her. He’d have to be cute and funny and charming and she couldn’t bring him home so they’d have to get a hotel room. She went to a bar and got nothing, nobody noticed her and while that was a hard blow to her already severely bruised ego she was not a quitter so she went a second time. One, ugly, sleazy looking guy with a name she didn't like came up to her; she turned him away thinking, “God, help me if I ever get that desperate.” He didn't take it very hard at all and a few days later she was speeding towards being that desperate. At this point it was kind of like an experiment. She'd tweak her look a little bit, return to the bar and feel the universe call her butt ugly for a few hours as everyone passed her by. She could've stayed home and done something healthier like raise her child but she didn't feel healthy enough to do that and her house didn't smell like Jordan anymore, somehow that made her sadder than getting looked over.

Five nights out in a row she dressed up and she figured maybe she looked desperate. She decided a t-shirt and jeans would look casual enough and she practiced looking aloof in the mirror, she looked that way most of the time now, but it was harder when you tried.

On the sixth day, God placed her at this bar for a reason. To be mocked, it felt like. She felt someone sit next to her and she knew who it was before they said anything because she knew how he smelled and she knew what it felt like when his knee bumped against hers. 

She wanted to look at him but it felt off-limits, plus she didn't wanna be the bitch crying in the bar because she saw her estranged? husband. She wanted to be aloof, you couldn't be aloof while in tears so she fixed her eyes on her drink.

“That's my shirt.”

She couldn't really say much without sounding like she was crying, she had to look at him to communicate without speaking. Love_Hurts.MP3

She pretended not to know what he was talking about, it was too big for her and it had a band she didn’t know anything about on the front, it was his shirt. “Huh?”

“That's my shirt.”

This was her husband, his hair was longer, he was paler and slimmer, unkempt in a way she'd be into if she didn't know it was because she hurt him.

She threw back the rest of her drink so she'd be able to blame the burning in her throat for the shakiness of her voice.

“You left it.” When she got her man back, he could get his shirt.

“And?”

“You must not have wanted it that bad to leave it.”

“So, because I leave something I don't want it anymore?”

“If you cared that much you would've made sure you took it with you.”

He looked at her long and hard, he looked sober but not vibrant and clean like celebrities usually did when they made their first glorious return to the world after rehab. He looked sort of like shit, he never slept that much in the first place but now he looked like he wasn't sleeping at all. 

“You look cute.”

It made her feel a lot better to hear him say it, he was the only person she wanted to hear it from anyway.

She couldn't say any of that because she didn't wanna scare him off.

The bartender replaced her empty glass, they were becoming silent friends it seemed like,“Thanks, I guess.”

“You look good in general.”

“I look like shit.”

“No, really.”

“No, I really look like shit.”

He sighed, frustratedly,“I'm trying to hit on you could you let me do it?”

“Sorry.”

“I know.”

“I didn't know we were on those terms again.”

“We're not. Don't worry about it.”  
She drummed her fingers along the wood and thought it best to keep her mouth closed. There was a football game on, she was going to pretend to pay attention to that.

“What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey.” In her mind she heard the joke he used to make whenever she’d drink it at home: like a cowboy.

“Like a cowboy.”

She smiled, keeping her teeth hidden because lately it felt ugly when she showed them,“Yeah, an old one.”

He got up from his seat and it was bitter going down that this was going to be the only thing she thought about the next time he picked JJ up.

He grabbed the underside of the stool she was sitting on and turned it until she faced him.

“I miss you, I'm still not ready to come home but I miss you and you seem a little desperate and I meant it when I said you looked good, so do you wanna head to the restroom with me? Blow off some steam?”

She wanted to be a little offended that he called her desperate but she couldn't disagree with him. She nodded.

“Why not?”

Because she was going to go home and feel like dying but that didn't matter so much when she thought about how long it'd been since he touched her last.

He took her hand in his and yanked her across the room, no disregard for the people in the way that Beyoncé kept bumping into and trying to apologize to before being pulled into someone else.

He stopped in front of the bathroom, swung open the door and stuck the upper half of his body in to see if there was anyone inside and held the door for her as if it led to somewhere romantic. 

She went in and he didn't follow, she just assumed he'd be back. The lights glowed a nice, unsettling green and it didn't help that one kept flickering off. It crossed her mind that this would be a really stereotypical place for her to get murdered and that made her wonder if Jordan would be upset. She liked to think he'd cry and mourn her for at least ten years. She couldn't decide if she wanted him to move on or not.

He returned with a wet mop and slid it into the door handle, a makeshift lock.

He was already undoing his belt, ducking his head down to kiss her. She decided to count them if she got more than this one. He pulled away and grabbed at her thighs to lift her up, she grabbed his forearms.

“You should wash your hands first.”

“What?”

“You touched the mop.”

“Beyoncé.”

“You touched a mop and this isn’t the cleanest environment.”

“I didn't touch the wet end.”

“You think germs see the wooden end of a mop and say ‘Oh, better not go there, that's where people hold it’ Jordan?”

He groaned and stepped on one of the sinks pedals, the water pressure was too high and it splashed up against the mirror. “Oh my God.”

“Thank you.” 

“Shut up.”

He dried his hands with those rough brown paper towels and it was an out of place thought but Beyoncé remembered how much she loved the smell of them as a child.

Jordan lifted her onto the sink and she frowned.

“What?”

“It's wet.”

“You just saw how it got wet.”

“I know, but it's wet.”

He rolled his eyes and kissed her, unfastening the button on her jeans. “Stop being a baby.”

“I'm not a baby.”

“You're a baby.”

“Whose fault is that?”

He grimaced, pulling her jeans and underwear to her ankles and she heard him say something under his breath.

“What'd you say?”

He didn't back down the way she thought he would. “I said, ‘and it was for nothing’.”

“You think I owed you something because you spoiled me?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn't ask you to do any of it and if I remember correctly I told you not to.”

He crouched down to pull her restrained legs over his head and stood up, pushing them to wrap around his waist. “Well, you took it and I expected you to be a decent fucking person in return.”

He pushed inside of her with little warning and he used a hand on the edge of the sink to steady himself, nipping at the underside of her chin and neck.

It felt weird, how he was being considerate enough to give her time to adjust. She wanted it to hurt a bit. She was writhing her hips against his in hopes that he'd catch her drift.

“What are you doing?”

She reached down, feeling for his balls, he liked that before, “What do you mean?” 

He took her hands in his and pinned them to her chest,“Stop it.”

“I want you to hurt me.”

“No.”

She snatched a hand loose and pushed her palm against his forehead until his head turned. “Stop being a fucking dweeb and hurt me.”

He was growing exasperated and she knew that but it didn't stop her, “Why?”

“Because I hurt you.”

He pressed a gentle thumb to her cupid’s bow, looking into her eyes like he was concerned. “It's hurting me more that you think I could ever hate you enough to hurt you back.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't say things like that.”

“I won't.”

“If you got picked up by some stranger is that what you'd ask them to do?”

“Probably.”

“That's fucked u- nobody's punishing you, that's not what I want.”

“It feels like it.”

“Because I won't come home? I'm having an awful time too.”

“Then come back and we can fix i-” 

He shook his head, cutting her off, “It's not that easy. Hop down.”

He lifted her legs back over his head and helped her off the sink, pulling her shirt off and turning her around so that her back was against his chest. 

His hands against her belly tickled and when she laughed she felt him smiling against her ear.

He smoothed a hand down and back up her thigh, smacking at her ass and making her breath catch in her throat. 

She let go of it when he was back inside her, squeezing at her breast through her bra, humming quietly in her ear.

She was panting and every so often he’d lick or bite at her neck and strained cries would force their way out. He was gripping her hip hard enough to leave a mark and when her eyes were open she'd catch his reflection in the mirror and nearly lose it. She was backing into him and whining when she got what she wanted.

He was sweating, eyes heavy lidded, mouth hanging open. He was focused, watching them. She came hard and he covered her mouth, laughing to himself. 

“You're still loud.”

“You're being loud right now.”

He started fucking her faster, biting at her ear and she would've thought it was on purpose but he apologized right after.

“You okay?”

“I’m good.”

She felt him tense up and pulled at her bra strap until it popped. She wanted to complain but the way he looked and sounded when he came made her reconsider.

He didn't pull out right away, their breathing synched up and he thrust into her a few more times as if he was savoring the feeling. 

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” 

He groaned and pulled out before pulling up her panties.

She turned around and touched her lips to his. “Im gonna leak.”

“Sorry, force of habit.”

“I'd be kind of mad if you didn't.”

“You have a ride home?”

“A cab.”

“Let me drive you.”

“It'd be weird.”

“No it wouldn't.”

“Why are you here anyway?”

“Majid said I should be around people that aren't him and I saw you.”

“A coincidence.”

He tried fixing the strap of her bra before giving up and tracing a finger over her nipple that was slipping out. “A happy one I think.”

“Not that happy.”

“Why?”

“It feels like goodbye.”

“How about when we have an itch we call each other to scratch it?”

“I don't wanna be your fuck buddy.”

“Just until we fix things.”

“So we're fixing things?”

“You're my best friend, Bey.”

She gave him a weak smile.

“Do we have a deal?”

“Deal,” She slapped his hand away, “Leave my boob alone.”

“I bought it.”

“And?”

“Friends let friends touch their tits."


End file.
